WoodsmanA Poem by SpitfireGrrrlwent to the woodpile dreaming of fire (naught but ashes, and a gathering chill) the ax was misshapen bent, dry (treated poorly but.. still expected to perform) but I hefted it anyway full swing, back and down (no graceful arc here, just an angry whoosh) dangerous that - I know i missed, no surprise (every. time.) caught a limb, shocked but numb (pain, its just so fluid.. right?) and realized, for this I needed a sledge. (get the right tools girl, you know better than this) © 2013 SpitfireGrrrlReviews
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Added on April 10, 2013Last Updated on April 10, 2013 AuthorSpitfireGrrrlDallas, GAAboutI've been coming and going from here for a while now. I'll just... stop writing for a while and step away, then come back for a little while. :) It's been lots of fun reading all the new stuff from.. more..Writing
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